


always late

by tristemami



Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Brain Surgery, Depression, Illnesses, Isolation, M/M, Mental Health Issues, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, im sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-17
Updated: 2018-04-17
Packaged: 2019-04-24 09:05:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14352333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tristemami/pseuds/tristemami
Summary: He walked slowly out of the surgeon's office. The numbness that walked out with him never really left.





	always late

-Good morning, Newton.

Hermann Gottlieb goes into his colleague's room and opens the curtains to welcome a new day, the room filling instantly with the cold light of the german morning.  
He walks to his bed, sitting on the side, looking at his absent eyes, the ones fixed straight to the ceiling. He brushes a hand against his cheek, not entirely sure he can feel it as Newton has no response to the touch whatsoever. He hasn't for a long time.

*

After the events that took place in Mount Fuji, no one trusted that Newton Geiszler would ever be the same. The hive mind that took over his had deeply shaken him as a person, and even with therapy, not even he was sure he would ever be the only being in his mind again, as much as he avoided those thoughts.   
The first months of psychiatric appointments were frustrating for him and kind of frightening to his doctor, who wasn't sure who she was talking to most of the time, but even so, Newton started to regain control of his own brain, the most precious thing he had, that now wasn't reliable for anything. He couldn't work, he couldn't be alone, and even couldn't think for 2 minutes straight without wondering if that was him or some otherwordly entity manipulating his mind. But, slowly, with help from Hermann and the people around him that didn't hate his guts entirely, he learned to tell the difference and to stop the intrusive thoughts that seemed to cling to every fold of his brain, lingering like echoes of a past he hadn't lived.  
Still, every goddamned day was a strugle, and since no one else could tell what was going on inside his head he felt worse, isolated, as he knew that nobody wanted him around or trusted him enough to even try and make conversation.

-I mean... I understand, of course. But that doesn't mean I don't feel like a utter piece of garbage, all alone, here by myself. I know you try to be here, Hermann... -Gottlieb still felt that tug on his heart whenever his name left the other's lips- But most of the fucking time I'm here, being tested and questioned, and it's fucking exhausting-

His already puffy eyes started watering, but he wouldn't let the tears fall, not fucking _again_ , not in front of Hermann _again_ , not in front of the only person on this Earth that not only didn't hate him, but actively tried to help him get better... _again_. 

-I'm sorry -he let out a quiet, dark laugh-, I know you do everything you can even with all the shit I put you through, I really don't deserve you or-

- _Shut up_ Newton. You're not a chore. I _choose_ to be here because I care and it's _my choice_ to make. Shut that mouth of yours and let go of those awful thoughts. 

Newton looked at him with a grateful smile from his chair, and put a hand on his tigh. They hadn't say it out loud yet, but they looked at each other with an unspoken " _I love you_ " written all over the stare.  
The time they had spent together after the attack settled the fondness they felt for each other already, to the point they didn't even bicker anymore, except for the exceptionally good days when Newton didn't feel like a waste of time and space.

*

The days came and went, and, eventually, Newton's progress in therapy came to a slow and infuriating end. There was nothing else they could do, and it was now on his hand to fight against his own mind each and every day to keep the mosnters from taking over again.

The nights were the worst.

The nightmares never stopped after the first drift, and if they were kind of exciting at first, he had grown tired of them, to end up being so _terrified_ that every dawn he would wake up crying silently, knowing he was cursed to never have a full night of rest ever again. He had tried everything, from sleep medication to hard drugs, and experimental treatments and meditation in between, but nothing had helped- hell, he even developed an addiction to narcotics, they numbed his mind so much he didnt even have to worry about thinking, much less about the continuous war going on inside him. And that was the closest thing to peace he could find, even if it meant kind of losing himself on the way. Hey, one for another...  _right_? 

Hermann, his sharp eyes always looking for patterns, knew that was bound to happen when he discussed with Geiszler about the drugs he was taking, but what could he really do? If it meant Newton could feel even a minute of relief from everything (his mind, his struggle, the rejection of the world and his old friends), _who was he to take that away from him_?

When everything settled down, Hermann resigned and took the full time role of Newton's caretaker, a role he played for years when no one else wanted to, and they fell into a painful routine where Newton was either scared shitless, depressed or completely numb, with the occasional good day in between, but Hermann patiently held his hand through it all, knowing he owed him that much for giving his life in the name of humanity; plus, he had grown a _deep_ love for the vulnerable man Newton had become under all the problematic layers of his new self. Every day it was harder and harder for him to remember the bright and jumpy man he first met when they started working together, and it was heartbreaking to see such a brilliant mind consumed by demons that had nothing to do with it.

He blamed himself, really. He should have checked more often on him. He should have gone to his apartment sometime. He should have talked him out of keeping the kaiju brain. But _he didn't_. And now it was too late for regret, as his deteriorating state made clear each day. But he was determined to help him now. Better late than never. 

*

He didn't see any of his old peers frecuently anymore, as he had moved far away from Tokyo, back to Germany with Newton, hoping that would help his peace of mind, but every now and then someone would visit. Raleigh and Mako were the most frequents, and always tried to talk to Newton, even if he was high out of his mind or having a decent day. Other than those two, Tendo had come a couple of times over the years, questioning Hermann every damn time of why did he devote his life to the man that almost killed humanity.

-Because he saved us, you stupid, small brained asshole! He gave up his sanity to save the whole world, and all everyone seems to be able to do is- is treat him like some sort of incapable monster!

Hermann immediately shut up, looking at his ex coworker, as Tendo's eyes looked at him widely open. He shoved the heel of his hand in the small space between his brows and nose, and raised his gaze to him again, the guilt seeping through every line of his face. 

-I'm- I'm so sorry. I didnt mean to scream at you. I'm sorry. But I'm tired of this. I can't possibly turn my back on him. He gave everything, _everything_ up for all of us and no one seems to remember that that brilliant brain of his was forever damaged because of his sacrifice.

-Hermann... I understand your point, of course. But you could take him to some institution where more capable professionals can take care of him. Now the one that is giving everything up is you: we didn't loose one but two of the _most intelligent people_ this world has seen. Be honest with me. When was the last time you even thought about getting back to work? 

Hermann looked coldly at him, lips pursed, stare sharp as a knife, not a trace of the guilt that was so obvious seconds before. 

-I'm sorry you look at it that way. But he's far more important to me now than whatever the world of academics has to offer. Goodbye, Tendo. I hope you have a good life. 

With that, he stood up and left the cafe, leaving the worried and sad man sitting alone, eyes pinned to Dr Gottlieb's back, still not convinced that he was doing the right thing.

*

For years, everything was the same. The routine settled in and Hermann started going through the motions, barely stimulating his brain with reading or taking a walk when he could. Sometimes they still discussed some research or paper in their fields of interest, and they would feel like they did back in the lab of the shatterdome, conversation heated, diagrams drawn, a lot of hand movement. But falling back into reality was painful, so that wasn't really common. 

The more intimate moments they'd share were the ones when Newton couldn't sleep and quietly walked to Herman's bed, not having to ask for permission at this point, to soothe his trembling body from a particularly awful nightmare. Hermann would run his hands through his roommate's hair in silence, their breathing synced, until he felt his body relax. It had been already ten years since they left the lab, and even then, they hadn't had the courage to actually speak about their mutual feelings, both knowing nothing good would come out of it. It was too painful for both of them to think about it. So they didn't.

Newton hadn't talked to anyone besides Hermann for so long he forgot what social interaction felt like. He had become a silent, brooding man, isolated from everything. He didn't step out of the house anymore.

And, one day, Hermann woke up and started his daily chores. He picked up Newton's meds, he made him a coffee just the way he liked it (a little bit of coffee, some milk, and more sugar than any human being should consume in a day), and walked to Newton's room. For the first time in years, he wasn't there. He felt his heart racing, the pressure on his chest overwhelming, his hands sweaty in the midst of what felt like a panic attack. In an unusual act for him, he let the tray fall, pills scattering, mug breaking, coffee spilled all over the floor, and walked slowly to the bed, only to find a note on the neatly made bed.

"Hermann,

I'm sorry. I can't take this anymore. I'm not strong enough to keep on living this way. Please, _please_ understand. 

 _I love you_."

His shaky hands made even more difficult to read the letter in Newton's messy handwriting, one of the few things he cherished as it stayed the same year after year, and when he finnished he found himself sitting on the floor with wet cheeks. What did that mean? What did Newton do?

The search for him was frantic and the feeling of dread grew every passing minute he was away from the man he'd spent his last years with; he called Newton's family, every police station, every fucking hospital in Berling, for fucks sake, where the fuck was he- until he found him.

He rushed to the hospital, not realizing he was still in his pajamas, not even taking his cane- his sight wasn't clear, fuck, where was Newton, what had he done, what did he meant, why didn't he tell him--

 

He walked slowly out of the surgeon's office. The numbness that walked out with him never really left.

A lobotomy. A fucking **_lobotomy_**. The final step to, literally, severe him from the hive mind that had fucked him up so badly he chose to cut ties with reality altogether.

From them on, Hermann felt absolutely alone, every day, for the rest of his life. The man he loved-- yes, _he loved him_ , fiercely, wasn't there anymore. All that was left was a vessel for a brain that would never again tell him how hideous his sweater was, or how boring he found the music he liked. The spark on his eyes was forever gone. 

And the worst part, is that, as much as he told him, he would never, never know he had been the love of his life. It was too late now. He was always late.

**Author's Note:**

> im sorry
> 
> lmk for typos! 
> 
> twitter.com/DRGElSZLER


End file.
